


Symptoms of Fatigue

by eggmacguffin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 03:23:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10631115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggmacguffin/pseuds/eggmacguffin
Summary: Post-Shiratorizawa match. Tsukishima is overwhelmed by the emotional highs and lows that the day had brought, and exhaustion hits him full force on the bus ride home.





	

Tsukishima struggled to get comfortable on the bus ride home. The steadily increasing ache in his hand and the emotional unsteadiness he was feeling was no longer numbed by adrenaline or desperation. Now, he just felt...raw. Like parts of him had been scraped out and something new had been poured in, and he didn’t quite know what it was or how to contain it.

Had that really been him out there? It felt like some kind of dream.

Tsukishima rested his head against the cool glass of the bus window, hoping to relieve his growing headache, and sighed.  Yamaguchi had been commandeered by the one of the second years about 10 minutes into the bus ride, and Tsukishima had been too busy pretending to be asleep to ask him to stay.  

So Tsukishima sat by himself, shivering slightly and valiantly ignoring the fact that he had come closer to _crying_ today than he had since elementary school. And that the urge to start crying had honestly not completely passed. For some fucking reason.

Tsukishima grimaced when the fingers on his right hand twitched involuntarily, pulling at the injury. The bandages on his hand had a little bit of blood staining them now, likely a result of coming back onto the court. An altogether foolish action, if he was being quite honest. He had proven himself to be quite a bit more foolish than he fancied being over the course of the day, if he was being totally honest with himself. But when had he ever been honest with himself?

There was sweat still drying in his hair, and it felt absolutely disgusting. The rumble of the bus was pounding into his skull from where he was slumped against the rattling window, but he couldn’t bring himself to move or sit up. He couldn’t seem to get his eyes to focus. Why was he so _cold?_

“Tsukishima!” came a friendly voice, and Tsukishima started as a warm body plopped into the seat next to him, barely avoiding smacking his head against the glass. He blinked several times before the familiar face of Sawamura Daichi swam into view. He looked faintly concerned.

“Captain?” Tsukishima rasped, and grimaced at how rusty his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Daichi-san. Did you need something?”

Daichi smiled in that warm, friendly way of his. “I wanted to see how you were doing; I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you after the match. Mind if I sit here?”

Tsukishima gestured for him to make himself comfortable. Given Karasuno’s otherwise abysmal defensive capabilities, it was quite logical for Daichi to wish to go over the technical positives and negatives of Tsukishima’s performance while the match was still fresh on both their minds.

“Are you feeling okay?” Or not.

“Fine. Why do you ask?” Tsukishima bit out.

Daichi ignored Tsukishima’s claws and said frankly, “Well, you’ve broken a finger, for one. And you’ve just played your first 5-set match, for another. And you’re shivering really badly, are you cold? Where’s your jacket?” Daichi looked around as if Tsukishima’s jacket might magically materialize.

“I left it in my bag because I couldn’t get it on over my hand without it hurting,” Tsukishima explained somewhat impatiently. “And my bag is under the bus. But it’s not that cold, I’ll survive.”

Daichi was already shrugging out his own jacket. “Here, lean forward.” Tsukishima acquiesced, too tired to argue. He sat stiff as a board as Daichi tugged the jacket into place over his shoulders.

The jacket was very, very warm, and Tsukishima relaxed into it despite himself. Daichi smiled at him as and put a hand on his shoulder. “Tsukishima, what I wanted to say...what you did out there today was incredible. You’ve grown so much over these past few months, and I’m very proud of you.”

Tsukishima felt faintly overwhelmed. He struggled for a response, but was thankfully interrupted by a cheerful, “Tsukishima, are you awake?” that came from somewhere above him.

Sugawara Koushi leaned over the back of the seat in front of him, smiling as though Tsukishima’s waking presence were some kind of gift. “I noticed that you didn’t eat much after the match, and I imagine you’re quite hungry, with how you played today. So I asked around, and Tanaka has some dried fruit his sister sent along.”

Tsukishima scoffed. “I’m not hungry—” He was interrupted by a loud growl from his own stomach, because of course he was. Sugawara looked at him. Tsukishima sighed, “Thank you, I appreciate it.” Suga smiled and leaned over to ruffle his hair. Tsukishima unconsciously leaned into the touch before catching himself.

Daichi used his momentary distraction to pull his wrist over. “You’re bandages are starting to look a little dirty. Do you mind if I rewrap this for you while you eat?”

Tsukishima sputtered, “It’s fine—I can—”

It had been phrased as a question, but Daichi clearly had no intention of heeding his answer. “Don’t be ridiculous, let me help. And drink some water while you’re at it. It’d be stupid to go this far only to let dehydration take you out.” Tsukishima accepted the proffered water bottle with a hand that shook a great deal more than he would admit. He took a tentative sip, and then drank more urgently, surprised at how much better it made him feel.

Daichi herded him into the aisle seat and sat across the way in order to begin work on Tsukishima’s hand. Tsukishima flinched a few times despite himself, but Daichi was shockingly gentle as he carefully unwrapped the injury to inspect it.

“Tsukishima, are you cold? You can have my jacket too, if you want.” Tsukishima jumped and looked behind him to see Asahi occupying his previous seat, successfully caging him in. The second, much larger jacket was being tucked around his shoulders before he could give any sort of response. It was even warmer than Daichi’s.

Asahi leaned back against the seat, seemingly content to remain there for the long haul.  “You did really well today. We’re all very proud of you.”

Tsukishima squashed down a blush of embarrassment. “Thanks, I guess.” He tried to sound dismissive enough to discourage this miserably uncomfortable conversation from going any further.

Nevertheless, Asahi continued. “It’s not just because of today, though. It’s been really inspiring, watching you discover your passion for the game over these past few months. It’s really been an honor to play with you this season.” What.How the hell was Tsukishima supposed to respond to _that?_  

Suga, reading minds as usual, smiled. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything, Tsukishima. We just want you to know we’re proud.” At least Asahi looked about as embarrassed as Tsukishima felt at the absolute drivel that was being spoken.

But honestly...it was kind of relaxing. Asahi (with permission) began to work some of the tightness out of Tsukishima’s shoulders with his hands. Suga continued to ply him with water and snacks over the seat and occasionally ruffled his hair. Daichi carefully cleaned his hand with antiseptic and began wrapping it in fresh bandages. Tsukishima found himself leaning into Asahi’s side (he was far warmer than either of the jackets) and blearily allowed his eyes to drift shut. Allowed his muscles to untense and his brow to unforrow and his mind to stop racing.

He was, after all, very tired.

**Author's Note:**

> this is very self-indulgent.


End file.
